Break time
by Frankie McStein
Summary: The boys finally get timeoff. But will Cowley let them finish it?


Disclaimer- Mark one rules. All hail the masters that are Mark one. Now help me bar the door so I can play with characters that they own.  
  
  
Normal Break Time.  
  
  
Both men were silently fuming at being in the presence of CI5's doctor. They had both been in enough fights to know when they did and when they did not need a doctor and this was one time when they did not. They both thought it was a waste of time.  
Well, it looks like you two were lucky this time.  
  
Another point against him, luck had nothing to do with it, they were damn good fighters, especially when it was a them or us situation. But the doctor didn't notice his error, or if he did, he decided not to care.  
There's nothing seriously wrong with either of you. Except maybe your willingness to keep doing this job.  
  
We keep doing this job so people like you can keep alive.  
Carefully controlled, but unmistakably dangerous anger rang through the quiet voice, and the doctor took an unconscious step back.  
Yes well, there's nothing I can do about the bruising except recommend you duck next time.  
The pitiful attempt at lightening the atmosphere joke fell flat.  
  
Could you duck a fist with two men holding you up?  
A different voice this time, but with the same dangerous anger simmering beneath it. Another step back brought the doctor's knees in to contact with is examination table and he winced at the feeling.  
Careful doctor. You may need medical assistance if you carry on like that. Or you could learn to watch where you're going.  
  
Nervous laughter escaped from the doctors mouth, the expressions of the men didn't alter.  
Yes, well, I don't suppose there's much point in you staying here any longer.  
  
Before he could say anything else, the two men had walked through the doors and were heading down the corridor, any pain from their various injuries concealed with ease borne from years of experience. The doctor sagged in to a chair with relief.   
  
It's a pity he didn't watch the two men for a few seconds longer, he would have noticed them start laughing as they started up the stairs.  
  
Well that was fun.  
Yeah. What would we do without doctors to terrify?  
I dunno. Grow up?  
More laughter followed this until Bodie looked over at his partner.  
  
Do you think maybe we give him to hard a time? I mean, he's good at what he does, when we really are hurt.  
A short silence, soon broken by both men saying,  
  
Do you know, I think he really did believe we were ready to pound him?  
Yeah. It was great wasn't it?  
Not for him. But then, who cares about him?  
His mother?  
Yeah, but I think she's dead!  
  
  
Laughter again, followed by more silence. Neither man minded, it was comfortable silence, the kind that occurs in strong friendships. It was almost ten minutes before they spoke again.  
  
So, two days off. What are we going to do?  
Don't ask me. I was hoping you'd have some ideas.  
Well, this is a problem. Maybe we can just stay in, watch some telly, drink a few a few beers.  
Isn't that what we always end up doing?  
Yeah usually.  
There you go then.  
  
Twenty minutes later, Doyle was waking in through Bodie's front door, a small bag in one hand carrying a change of clothes and a large case of beer firmly held in the other hand. It didn't take long for the two of them to decided they couldn't be bothered to cook and so Bodie found himself walking down the street in the late afternoon, looking for a takeaway.   
Doyle agreeing to a takeaway with out my having to literally twist his arm? Must be having an effect on him.'  
  
Meanwhile, back at Bodie's flat, Doyle was sprawled on the couch, flicking through the T. V channels, dutifully following Bodie's suggestion that he try to find something for them to watch. He paused at an announcement of the upcoming timetable and caught a likely looking movie.  
Sounds as though it was made a budget of ten pounds. Perfect!  
  
Not long after, Bode came in with two bags of food.  
I called in to a shop to get some crisps as well, thought we could use the extra sustenance to recover form al the hard work we've been doing lately. Doyle grinned, although his head was hidden in the cupboard where he was rooting around for plates.  
  
It took the two about five more minutes to sort out the food and settle down, just as they did, the movie Doyle had picked started. He had ben right. Almost every line provided a base for a sarcastic comment. As the food disappeared and the beer began to flow, the comments became less connected with film, until each required a full explanation.  
  
It was during one such explanation Doyle realised something and broke off from what he was saying to share it with Bodie.  
We're drunk!  
  
Yeah, yeah, we are. I'm sure of it. We, you and me, are totally, completely, sloshed.  
  
It's not sloshed, it's inhibrit... inhibrin... inhibernation, Bodie concluded triumphantly, while Doyle laughed again.  
I always knew you looked like a squirrel.  
  
But Bodie's indignant yell was lost on Doyle who was laughing again. Before long Bodie joined him, and the two partners spent the next few hours giggling their way through the remaining beers. It took even longer for them to calm down.  
  
When they woke up later that morning, both became immediately aware of a rather large pain in the immediate vicinity of their heads. It was, as always, a rather subdued morning, as both waged war against their hangovers in their own separate ways, Doyle by drinking water, and Bodie by discreetly swallowing aspirin when he thought Doyle wasn't looking.  
  
As always, Doyle's method proved more successful and he recovered sooner than Bodie, who pretended his hangover was gone to prevent Doyle gloating over him. Later in the day, after the children had gone back to school for the afternoon, the two took a jog around the park, determined to be able to tell Cowley they had done some form of exercise during their two days off. Even if he didn't ask, they would have the knowledge of exercise done, possibly to lord over him at a later date, and that made it worth while.  
  
When they got back from the park, they found a pile of mail sitting on the door mat and a phone ringing on the table top.  
As Doyle stooped to get the letters, Bodie ran to get the phone. As Doyle walked over to him he hung up with a groan.  
That was the cow, he said, not looking at his partner. Somethings come up.  
Something always comes up in CI5. Why's this so important?  
Because it's made him call us back to duty thats why.  
  
  
Yeah, I know, we're supposed to be back tomorrow not today. Wait and listen. Some maniac just walked in to a shop and killed a five year old girl and her mother in order to get attention to pass his demands that he be allowed to see and shoot the minister of agriculture.  
  
Anger flared in Doyle's eyes and Bodie knew no more complaints would be forthcoming. He sighed as he watched Doyle go to grab his coat, knowing they had no choice but to sacrifice the rest of their time off.  
Oh well,' he thought to himself, chasing after his partner, a perfectly normal break time then.  
  
  
Strangely enough, terrible as this is, I really enjoyed writing it. I like looking in to the part of the characters we don't usually get to see, in case this, what they do when they finally do get to keep their time off. I thought it a bit hard that they always seemed to have Cowley call them on some assignment, with the possible exception of When the Heat Cools Off', but you can't really class that because the whole episode is spent chasing after criminals anyway.  
Oh well, review if you are still reading, please? Please?


End file.
